


Queen of the gas station

by Mossbride (Morbidfeatures)



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidfeatures/pseuds/Mossbride
Relationships: Leatherface | Bubba "Junior" Sawyer/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Queen of the gas station

The gas station wasn't much but Drayton took pride in it.

From the rusty pipes that occasionally dripped onto patrons to the door that screamed murder whenever opened, Drayton considered his station a home away from home.

Randy, a regular sits at the bar and says. "Excuse me I asked for the-" his words are lost in the daily humdrum. Glasses clinking. Voices murmuring.

He nods and smiles. Not really listening but taking his cues on how to react, it's autopilot. Bringing out drinks and the occasional beer but aging his mind drifts elsewhere. The bills. The taxes. How they need a new cooler.

From his place at the counter he saw a new car pulled up, one of them fancy sports cars usually confined to the TV. 

Outsiders.

His favorite.

"That'll be right up." He told Randy absently, stopping him midsentence.

He discreetly kept an eye on them as they entered, grabbing a soda from the shelf and tossing it to Randy. Two women entered arguing at the doorway as women do. Their voices lowered when they entered but it was pretty easy to hear what's going on, there's not a lot of space in the station so sound carries.

One with bright red hair and a lobster-red burn and the other indescribable. She was a beauty. A proud nose and pouty lips bordering on obscene. The short jean skirt hitched up when she walked, the blouse deliberately exposed shoulders and belly in a way that kids these days yearn to emulate.

He faked attention to the corner TV hung on the wall when said woman walked towards the counter.

The few heads consisting of Mort from down the road, Turner the truck driver who often frequents the area and Randy, turned to stare as this girl sat at a stool. He didn't blame them.

"Hey there, purty." Randy smiled as she took the seat not far from him. His rotting teeth always had Drayton imagining pulling them out whenever they talked. And his breath when he spoke? Jesus, you would have thought he ate roadkill for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Instead of turning in disgust like most girls of her caliber are want to do when presented a sweaty pig, this girl responded in kind. Fluttering her lashes. "Hello."

His stomach twisted. Something wasn't right here. He may be a cannibal but he has good Christian morals. Turner called him for gas so whenever he passed by he stretched his hearing.

"Noticed when you came in…"

"I'm just looking for some fun…"

"You like this sort of…."

Her redhead friend left out the door and the van sped off but she doesn't seem to notice or care.

He reaches the breaking point of what he is willing to put up with when Randy finishes his beer and tells her."Maybe we can talk about it over a beer."

"You, out!" He spat at Randy, then turned to the girl once the man scampered out the door, too much of a chicken shit to challenge him. The other two men don't even look their way, preoccupied with beer and the tv. "And you, I don't know what kind of business you think I run here but there won't be whoring around my property."

The deer in the headlights look doesn't last long. She laughs.

His cheeks heat up in response. "Why the hell are you laughing?" He demands, most of his life he's been laughed at and kicked around. Old memories creep back as he has thoughts of cashing her pretty skull in with a brick.

She bites her lips and tells him coyly. "I'm not a whore. I was just trying to get him to buy me a drink." She explains.

The snarl doesn't leave his face but despite himself, his shoulders relax a fraction at her reasoning. "Oh?" And I care how?

"But now that I got your attention can I get a pulled pork burger. With some fries." She asks him.

Confused at the change in direction of the conversation he simply replies. "Comin right up?"

She made a groaning sound when she bit into the burger. A disgusting flick of heat responded in his stomach. "These are amazing."

"Thank you."

The burger is probably the best thing she's tasted in a long time. Perhaps that's part of the homesick part of her talking. Whatever it is, it's been a long time since she tasted the barbecue of home. She can't explain, California bbq doesn't hit the same notes as Texas bbq. Its practically transdimensional.

When finished with her meal she wipes herself up with a napkin. "You got a phone Mr....?"

He studies her for one strange moment and when he speaks she gets the sense from his eyes that she passed some sort of judgment. Creepy. But she's used to guys leering at her, she doesn't think much of it. 

"Drayton, and I got one out back.

He motions her to follow and she briefly hesitates. Her arms are muscled. And he's an old man between late thirties or mid-forties. She can take him.

"Just so you know if you try to rape or murder me I got family that'll look for me." She spoke plainly from behind him. He led her to a hallway badly in need of a clean. It almost made her regret eating the burger.

"I got no stomach for such violence." He said.

"Good to know."

In the back he rifled through wires and tools, kicking some out of his way. The whole place is unorganized, it pained her to walk around such a mess

"So you said you got family?" The old man asks.

She tells him pointedly. "Five siblings in Pasadena. All boys." When he quirks his brow she added affectionately. "There was never a quiet moment."

"Poor you." His own home was filled with enough idiots.

"I'm going back. I shouldn't have left in the first place. You don't leave family, especially when they went through hell for you. I just hope they'll forgive me." She wistfully sighs. Here she goes again exposing her life story to a stranger.

"I hope so too." Oddly enough he did.

He hands her the phone and steps to the side to allow her privacy. Though not very far, in case she takes a liking to his property too much and decides to run off with something.

He doesn't hear much as he rinsis the knives and spoons. Eventually, the conversation between her and her family gets louder. There was a lot of yelling on the line, she shouts foreign words back.

The conversation ends with a single wet sob that pauses his wipe down of a glass mug and pulls at his heart. Take pity on this one, it seems to say.

He squashes it.

A couple of minutes pass before he walks in. An effort to not appear as if he were lurking outside the door.

She's on the bench with her shoulder hunched and hair a tangled mop obscuring her face. At least she's out of tears. 

He clears his throat.

She takes a moment to collect her self and gives him a wobbly smile. Her mascara is running tracks over sticky cheeks, it's obvious she was crying and is playing it off but being a gentleman he doesn't mention it.

"New plan, I need to stake it out here for a bit. Got any places?"

__

"Can I stay at your place?"

"I got two dumb retards back home, you sure you can handle them?"

"I've been around boys my whole life."

"And what do I get in return? You ain't got money." He needs some convincing before he lets some slut into his home. Lord knows she could corrupt his brothers.

She pouts and reads her hands wide, to the sky above. "The goodness of helping a soul in need?"

He snorted and turned his back to her. Pretending to be occupied with his change.

She huffed and searched. There has to be something she could do. "I can help around the station. Indentured servitude and all that jazz. At least until my brother comes to pick me up."

She knew she had him when a couple of dimes fell to the floor board. "Deal"


End file.
